


A New Peace

by MalenkayaCherepakha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Anal Sex, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-07 22:41:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21465706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalenkayaCherepakha/pseuds/MalenkayaCherepakha
Summary: Of all the people Draco expected to walk into his cafe in Muggle London, Harry Potter was not one of them.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 40
Kudos: 480
Collections: Harry/Draco Owlpost 2019





	A New Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for H/D Owlpost 2019. Thank you PrimaveraCerezos for all your beta help ❤

Of all the things Draco expected to see when he walked back to the counter after taking a quick break in the back room, Harry Bloody Potter standing in the middle of his cafe was not one of them.

Draco stopped in his tracks, relieved to realise that Potter hadn’t spotted him yet, too busy looking up at the handwritten menus above the counter, squinting despite his glasses. Draco took a moment to quietly look at Harry, his first glimpse of him since Harry had spoken in Draco’s defense at his trial. In some ways, Potter had changed almost beyond recognition, but in other ways he was still the same as he had been back then. His glasses had been updated, far more fashionable now than the horrible frames he’d worn at school, and his clothes no longer swamped him. In fact, they almost clung to his body, his t-shirt straining against his arm muscles. That was the biggest and most obvious change of all - the scrawny, malnourished child had been replaced by a fit, healthy man, and Draco couldn’t even begin to process that. Thankfully Potter’s hair was still just as horrific as always, and that more than anything gave Draco the courage to stop hiding behind the coffee machine and make his way behind the counter. 

‘Good morning, what can I get you?’ he said, falling into his regular sales patter in the hopes that it would hide the shock he was still feeling. 

‘What the -’ Harry spluttered as he looked away from the menu. ‘Malfoy? What are you doing here?’

‘I work here,’ Draco replied, feigning a tone of complete boredom. ‘What would you like?’

‘You what?’ Harry was staring at Draco, his brow furrowed as he seemingly tried to make sense of what he was seeing. ‘You work, here?’

‘Yes, Potter. This is my cafe, I work here. Now do you want a drink or not?’ Draco’s attempt at treating Harry just like any other customer failed, the customary exasperation he had always felt when dealing with Harry overpowering his ingrained habit of always being polite to customers. 

‘Uh- I’ll have a latte I guess,’ Harry said finally, after looking back up at the menus several more times. 

‘To take away, or drink in?’ Draco asked, praying for Harry to say takeaway. 

‘Um, take away, I suppose,’ Harry said, to Draco’s relief. 

‘It’ll be ready in a moment, if you wouldn’t mind waiting over there,’ Draco said once Harry had paid, customer service voice firmly back in place as he gestured to the end of the counter. Harry went where Draco indicated, and Draco busied himself with making Harry’s drink, muttering to himself to just hold it together for a tiny bit longer, then he could fall apart as much as he needed to. 

Harry waited for his drink quietly, Draco sneaking looks over to see that Harry was seemingly quite content stood there, lazily gazing round the cafe while he waited. Draco wondered what Harry thought of what he was seeing, how Draco’s handiwork looked through Harry’s eyes. He wondered how _he_ looked through Harry’s eyes, what Harry was thinking after so many years without seeing each other. He was sure it was nothing like what Draco was thinking. 

Draco was spared from his increasingly maudlin thoughts by Harry’s drink being ready, and he passed it over to Harry, suddenly very keen to get him out of his cafe right now. Luckily Harry seemed to be in no mood to linger, and as soon as he had received his drink, he was heading out of the shop, with only a cursory thanks to Draco. Draco stood behind the counter, watching Harry as he left the shop, and only once he was sure Harry had well and truly gone did he let his guard drop, stumbling backwards until he reached the back counter, leaning on it to take the weight off his suddenly shaky legs. 

He’d often wondered what it would be like to see Harry again, after so many years and so much complicated history, but in those imagined scenarios he’d always dealt with it much more smoothly than this, showing Harry how wonderful his life had become rather than collapsing into a state of nervous exhaustion the minute his back was turned. He’d never expected that he’d still react so viscerally just to Harry’s presence, and he hadn’t been able to predict the make over that made it all so much worse. He certainly hadn’t thought that five minutes spent in the same room as Harry would make the crush he’d secretly harboured throughout his teenage years come roaring back with such ferocity.

* * *

Draco thought that would be it for another ten years. But, as happened far too often for his liking, Harry proved him wrong. 

It was a quiet, drizzly afternoon, the cafe relatively empty as people hid from the rain and gloom at home. A few patrons had braved the weather and sat warming themselves with coffees and hot chocolates, chatting quietly or reading the paper. Draco liked the cafe on days like this. He loved the buzz of the morning rush, of course, loved seeing visual proof that people wanted to come here, but there was something different about the cafe on a damp weekday afternoon. It became cosy, homelike, the low murmur of conversation mixing with the soothing music playing through the speakers. This was what Draco had envisaged, when he had first decided to open a cafe; people finding a calming space to relax and unwind in, alone or with company, and nothing made him happier than being here when it was like this. 

The jingle of the bell above the door broke him out of his quiet reverie, and Draco looked up to once again find himself face to face with Harry Potter. 

‘Hi,’ Harry said, when Draco made no attempts to greet him. 

‘Hello,’ Draco replied, when his mouth finally decided to work again. ‘Another latte?’

‘Nah,’ Harry said, once again perusing the menu. ‘I fancy a hot chocolate, I think. It’s bloody freezing out there. Think I’ll try the peppermint one. Thanks.’

‘Takeaway again?’ Draco asked, already reaching for the cardboard cup.

‘I think I’ll stay here, actually,’ Harry said, causing Draco to freeze with his hand outstretched towards the cups. ‘Bit chilly outside, you know,’ Harry added, apparently feeling the need to explain his clearly completely mad decision.

‘Right- yes- it is cold today,’ Draco managed to get out, before he hurriedly turned to make Harry’s drink, hoping Harry hadn’t seen the way his cheeks had flushed at his inarticulacy. 

Draco didn’t dare look around as he made Harry’s drink, topping the hot chocolate off with a swirl of whipped cream and sprinkles. He was immensely relieved to see that another customer was waiting in line when he turned back around, meaning he only had time to quickly pass Harry his drink, all opportunities for conversation and further embarrassment cut off, at least for the time being. 

A small influx of customers kept Draco busy for the next twenty minutes or so, and he barely had time to process the fact that Harry Potter, his childhood enemy and not-so-former crush, was currently sat in his cafe, drinking a ridiculous hot chocolate confection, and seemingly deeply absorbed in an apparently Muggle novel. It was a scenario he had never even been able to contemplate before, it seemed so out of the realms of possibility, but it was apparently happening, and his brain did not know how to deal with that fact. 

Once all the customers had been plied with hot drinks and freshly baked biscuits and muffins, their faces much happier than when they had rushed into the cafe, rain dripping from coats and noses, Draco was free to contemplate the mystery that was Harry Potter. He was currently ensconced in one of the big squishy armchairs that Draco had placed near the fireplace, a book propped open on his knee as he slowly sipped at his drink. Draco couldn’t believe he hadn’t finished it yet - he’d expected Harry to down it and escape the cafe as soon as possible, but Harry didn’t look like he would be moving any time soon. He’d removed his coat, the merrily crackling fire presumably chasing away the chill from outside, and once again the sight of him in a t-shirt was doing funny things to Draco’s insides. 

Draco tried to return his focus to work - there was always plenty to do, even when he wasn’t serving customers - but he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting back over to where Harry was sat every few minutes, as if to check whether he was still there. He found himself wiping down tables near Harry, just as an excuse to get a bit closer and get a better view. He peered surreptitiously over at Harry as he cleared dirty mugs off the nearest table, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the front cover of Harry’s book. He was inordinately curious to know what exactly was capturing Harry’s attention so well, and his interest only grew when he discovered that Harry was reading _To Kill a Mockingbird_, a book Draco had read not long after he started spending more time in the Muggle world. His stomach and brain feeling all muddled, Draco returned to his sanctuary behind the counter, where he could continue his appraisal of Harry without being close enough to be even more mixed up by the smell of Harry’s aftershave. When Harry finally finished his drink - it had surely gone cold long ago - he quickly pulled on his coat and left, without even looking over towards Draco, who tried to pretend that the slight didn’t affect him at all, despite the hollowness that Harry’s departure left in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

From then on, Harry always stayed in the cafe while he drank his drink, and occasionally indulged in a pastry, always with a book open in front of him. Draco was fascinated - he’d never expected Harry to be a reader, but clearly he loved to lose himself in a good book. Draco had lined one of the walls of his cafe with bookshelves, filled to the brim with books for his patrons to choose from. By necessity they were all muggle books - he couldn’t risk one of his muggle customers accidentally stumbling across a mishelved wizarding book - but Harry didn’t seem put off. After his first perusal of the shelves, he stopped bringing his own book and started to pick them off the bookcases, taking each book home to finish but always ensuring that he brought it back the next time he came in. Draco didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but he started to look forward to discovering what Harry would pick, and he found himself bearing Harry’s taste in mind when he browsed second hand bookshops for more additions to the cafe’s shelves. 

Draco’s crush was beginning to reach unbearable levels - every day he woke up jittery, wondering whether Harry would pop in, and each jingle of the bell over the door had his heart rate kicking up a notch in anticipation. The disappointment he felt each time the door opened to reveal someone other than Harry was tempered only by the rush of excitement that would flood him each time he looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway. They’d still not spoken much, only exchanging the briefest of words as Harry ordered his drink, Draco too afraid of giving away his feelings to say more. He didn’t know why Harry was still coming back, and so often at that, but he was burning with a need to find out, and he knew that soon they would have to talk. They couldn’t go on existing in the same space for hours and hours each week without acknowledging each other’s presence, or the depth of their shared history. 

After several weeks of stilted conversation followed by feigned ignorance of each other’s existence, everything changed. It was late, nearly closing time, and all Draco’s other customers had left, heading home to families or out to meet friends for dinner. Draco had given up on seeing Harry that day - he never came this late, and only someone who desperately wanted to spend all night wide awake would risk drinking coffee at this time of day. Draco was finishing wiping down the counter and the machines, preparing to leave for the day, when Harry surprised him by pushing open the door, a harried expression on his face. 

‘What on Earth are you doing here?’ Draco asked, too astonished to think before speaking.

‘I-’ Harry started, running a hand through his hair as he appeared to search for words. ‘I’ve had a bit of a day, I suppose.’

When Draco didn’t respond, Harry sighed and continued.

‘And, I don’t know. I just needed a coffee,’ Harry finished anticlimactically. 

‘So you came here.’

‘Looks that way, doesn’t it.’

‘I was about to close.’

‘Oh, sorry.’ Harry had the grace to look contrite, as though he had suddenly realised that it was in fact quite late. ‘I’ll go then.’

‘No!’ Draco blurted out, blushing involuntarily at the force of his exclamation. ‘I mean, it’s fine, I can make you a quick drink.’

‘Cheers,’ Harry said, leaning on the counter as he watched Draco start to make his coffee. 

It was strange, feeling Harry’s eyes on him as worked. Draco was used to Harry taking himself off to his now customary armchair in the corner and immediately sticking his nose in a book, so it was new and unsettling to find himself as the main focus of Harry’s attention. Normally he could make coffee with his eyes closed, but this time he found himself fumbling, his hands shaking as he clanked the mug on the side and nearly spilled the milk. After much internal cursing, he finally managed to present Harry with a drink, only narrowly avoiding spilling it across his chest as he handed it over. Desperately needing to escape into the backroom for a moment so he could pull himself together, he hoped that Harry would go to his usual armchair and go back to ignoring Draco, but as was so often the case in his life, he was out of luck. Harry only moved as far as one of the high tables next to the counter, dragging one of the stools back over and sitting himself down, right there, in front of Draco.

‘What are you doing?’ Draco said, eyes wide as he stared at Harry in shock.

‘Drinking my coffee, obviously,’ Harry replied, a mischievous smile appearing on his face. 

‘And you’re going to do it right there, rather than in your corner?’ Draco said, deciding that he wasn’t going to let Harry wrong foot him, that he was going to give as good as he got. 

‘Yep.’ 

‘Well, far be it for me to stop the Chosen One drinking his coffee where he chooses,’ Draco said, giving a mock bow.

Harry just laughed in response, and Draco couldn’t stop a smile sneaking on to his face. Making Harry laugh had set butterflies wild in his stomach, and he had a sudden inexplicable and incredibly out of character urge to start cracking jokes or pulling silly faces in an attempt to get Harry to laugh again. To avoid making a complete fool of himself, Draco hurriedly returned to cleaning up the cafe, getting everything in order so he could leave as soon as Harry had finished his drink. He already knew he would spend the evening driving himself crazy replaying the memory Harry laughing over and over, wishing he was in a position to make Harry laugh like that every day.

‘Malfoy,’ Harry said suddenly, interrupting his musings. 

‘Potter,’ Draco replied, turning to look back at Harry, who was still sitting at the counter, mug in hand. 

‘Why did you open a cafe?’

Draco didn’t respond immediately, returning to tucking in chairs and wiping the tables, trying to decide what he wanted to tell Harry. 

‘After the war-’ Draco began hesitantly, worried that mentioning the war would bring the truce they’d seemingly established crashing back down on him. ‘After the war, I was, well, a bit lost. You know of course that I didn’t go to Azkaban-’ Harry nodded at this tacit acknowledgement of the part he had played in Draco’s trial. ‘But of course Father did - rightly I must add - and we had to pay a lot of reparations. 

‘The papers thankfully quickly lost interest in us, but understandably no one would hire me. For a while I just floated, not sure what to do with myself, occupied with making sure Mother was coping as well as she possibly could, but eventually it became clear I’d need to do something if we didn’t want to run out of money. I didn’t want to do something _traditional_, _respectable_, or anything Father would have approved of the Malfoy heir doing. I wanted something different, something that was mine.’’

‘So you opened a cafe?’ Harry had been listening quietly, his eyes trained on Draco as he spoke, but when Draco paused Harry filled the silence.

‘Yes, after a while. I’d spent quite a lot of time in Muggle cafes, after the war, just discovering what Muggles were really like, and I always enjoyed being in them. It took some time for me to find the right thing, and the right place, but then I came here, and, well. It all fell into place.’

‘It’s amazing, really,’ Harry said, the sincerity in his voice making Draco’s heart ache. 

‘What about you?’ Draco asked, keen to move the topic away from him, worried he might find himself spilling all his deepest secrets to Harry. ‘What do you do that means you can spend endless hours each week taking up space in my cafe?’

‘I don’t really do anything, I suppose,’ Harry said after a momentary pause.

‘You don’t do anything? At all?’ Draco was surprised - Harry had never seemed the type to enjoy swanning around leisurely. He had always given off the air of constantly needing to be doing something, ideally something that helped people. Last Draco had heard, admittedly years ago, was that Harry had joined the Aurors and was steadily making his way through the ranks. 

‘Not anymore,’ Harry said cagily, sipping his coffee rather than elaborating. Draco just watched him expectantly, waiting for Harry to say more, but when he didn’t, Draco spoke instead. 

‘Are you really not going to expand on that? Or are you trying to cultivate an air of mystery with your refusal to answer basic questions? Because if you are, it’s really not working.’ It absolutely was working. Draco was desperately curious to know more, needing to know why the topic had made Harry clam up so tightly. 

‘I’m not trying to be mysterious, you dick,’ Harry said, before sighing and messing up his hair even further with one hand. ‘Fine,’ Harry sighed. ‘I quit the Aurors, a few days before I first came here.’

‘What? Why?’ Draco was gobsmacked. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. 

‘I just- I don’t know. I was done with it, the bureaucracy and the regulations and the feeling that I wasn’t really helping anyone, stuck behind a desk barking orders. It just, it wasn’t right anymore.’

‘And then you just ended up here and decided to become a permanent fixture in your school enemy’s cafe?’

‘Well, yeah, basically,’ Harry laughed. ‘Although I wouldn’t say you were my school enemy - I think Voldemort still gets that honour. School pain in the arse maybe.’

‘I was so much worse than a pain in the arse! But I will concede that I wasn’t quite as effective in my terrorising as I used to wish I was. Merlin, I was an awful child.’

‘You were,’ Harry agreed, to a raised eyebrow from Draco. 

Both smiling slightly, they lapsed into silence, and Draco felt as though something had shifted between them, a warm bubble of contentment mixed with excitement settling in his chest.

* * *

From that day on, they began to talk as Draco made Harry’s coffee, and Harry started occasionally sitting near the counter rather than over by the fireplace. It wasn’t always easy - sometimes their conversations were stilted, hesitant, their shared history still making itself known whenever conversation drifted towards their school days or the war. But they were getting on far better than Draco could have ever dreamed, and before long they were talking the whole time Harry was in the cafe, their conversations veering wildly from the book Harry was reading, to the latest Quidditch match, to what Harry might do now that he was no longer an Auror. Draco found himself making mental notes of things he saw during the day, at the cafe or out in the world, that he wanted to tell Harry, every situation or joke he heard making him wonder what Harry would think of it. Harry had taken up every inch of available space in Draco’s mind, becoming the first thing he thought of in the morning and the last thing on his mind as he fell asleep. It was driving Draco mad. He wanted nothing more than to reach across the counter and take Harry’s hand, but the new peace and tentative friendship was so fragile that he didn’t want to do anything to risk it. Having Harry go back to his armchair, or worse, never back into the cafe at all, made Draco ache just thinking about it. 

Winter was here in earnest now, the sky darkening even as Draco served the last of the lunchtime rush, his customer numbers dwindling as the weather got bitingly cold and people began to hibernate in their homes and offices, subsisting on poor coffee rather than venture out into the cold. The weather never seemed to put Harry off though. He still turned up several times a week, wrapped up tightly in a surprisingly fashionable coat and scarf, the feeling of the edges of his warming charm making Draco’s skin tingle. Draco was torn between wishing Muggles were able to cast warming charms so that they too would keep coming to his cafe - winter was always a harder time for the cafe with far less passing trade - and grateful that the lack of customers meant his conversations with Harry went uninterrupted. 

When Harry walked into the cafe one day in late December, it seemed like a normal day. Draco had decorated the cafe for Christmas several days previously, and the fairy lights strung along the mantelpiece and the shelves of the bookcases twinkled as the sun gradually set outside. The cafe had been surprisingly busy all day, last minute Christmas shoppers laden with bags stopping in for a caffeine boost to give them the energy to deal with the crowds thronging the streets. The longer Harry sat in the cafe, chatting with Draco in between customers, however, the quieter it got. The weather was closing in, each new customer complaining about the bitter cold, and the clouds were gathering, threatening snow. Soon Harry was the only person besides Draco left in the cafe, everyone else having sensibly left to get home before the weather took a turn for the worse. 

When it became clear that no one else was going to arrive in search of a drink to warm them up, Draco flipped the sign to closed and they relocated from the counter to one of the sofas near Harry’s old corner. It was warm by the fire, the atmosphere cosy and almost romantic, and Draco found himself wishing more fervently than ever that he and Harry were involved - it would have been perfect to sit here cuddled up together. They chatted a bit, discussing the progress of Harry’s Christmas shopping, Draco making suggestions of books Hermione might like and possibly might not have already read, but they also spent long moments in a contented silence, watching the fire dance in the grate. 

‘Got a secret stash of firewhiskey around here anywhere?’ Harry asked, breaking one of their long silences. Harry’s hot chocolate mug sat empty on the coffee table, and Draco realised he must have finished it while Draco was staring into the fire, dreaming about being able to touch Harry.

‘Maybe,’ Draco chuckled, heaving himself out of the soft cushions and going into the back room to retrieve his firewhiskey and two glasses.

Settling back down on the sofa, accidentally slightly closer to Harry than he had been before, Draco poured two generous measures of whiskey, clinking glasses with Harry before taking a sip, the drink burning and warming his chest. 

‘It’s good,’ Harry said, indicating his glass.

‘It should be, Ogden charged me a fortune,’ Draco said, sinking further back into the cushions. ‘He always rips me off whenever I go in there.’

‘That’s ‘cause he knows you’re easy now,’ Harry replied. ‘Why should he give you a good price when he knows you’ll pay the high one?’ 

‘I’m not easy!’ Draco said, mock offence colouring his voice. 

‘Are you sure about that?’ Harry had a glint in his eye that made Draco’s stomach flip over. 

‘Well, I suppose I can be, for the right person.’ Draco’s heart was pounding in his chest, nerves making him feel sick. He hoped he hadn’t taken it too far, that he hadn’t misread Harry’s comment. It had sounded flirty, but Merlin, what if Draco had just imagined it? 

‘And what makes someone the right person?’ Draco nearly cried with relief. Harry was definitely flirting too.

‘I suppose the right person would be…’ Draco tried to think. What could he say that wasn’t just _‘you’_? ‘The right person would be someone who I can talk to, who isn’t boring, who knows me and my life and the magical world. And someone disgustingly attractive too of course.’

‘Ah, that rules me out then I suppose.’

‘Which bit do you think disqualifies you? I would have said we know each other quite well by now, after all this time you’ve spent cluttering up my cafe.’

‘I meant the disgustingly attractive part actually,’ Harry said, a faint stain of a blush appearing on his cheekbones. 

‘Didn’t you win Witch Weekly’s most desirable wizard or some rubbish like that multiple years running?’ Draco suppressed a laugh at the way Harry’s blush deepened. 

‘Well, yes, I did. But that doesn’t mean the people I want to find me attractive do.’

‘Who wouldn’t think you’re attractive? They’d have to be out of their minds.’

‘Are _you_ out of your mind?’

A silence fell, less contented than their previous periods of silence. The atmosphere around them positively crackled with tension as Harry looked at Draco, waiting for his response. Draco knew this was it, the moment where he could take a risk and potentially get everything he wanted. 

‘Yes, completely, but not because I think you’re unattractive.’

Draco’s words hung in the air for a long minute, and then a smile slowly spread across Harry’s face, and he was moving, shifting so that he was fully facing Draco, and his face was coming closer and closer. And then Harry kissed him, the touch of his lips so light and gentle that Draco almost thought he’d dreamed it. But then Harry kissed him again, and Draco knew he wasn’t dreaming. This kiss was deeper, more intense, and Draco couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him as Harry’s mouth opened, his tongue flicking along Draco’s lips. That gasp seemed to be what Harry had been waiting for, as he moved even closer, bringing one hand up to tangle in Draco’s hair, the other snaking round Draco’s waist, pulling their bodies as close together as they could get given their awkward positions on the sofa. 

‘Come here,’ Draco murmured between kisses, wanting more of Harry than he could reach from his spot on the sofa. Harry quickly settled himself on Draco’s lap, and the feel of their bodies finally pressed properly against each other made them both groan. Harry ground down as they kissed, the pressure exquisite against Draco’s aching cock, and Draco’s hands moved to Harry’s arse, helping him press harder, wanting more and more. They kissed for what felt like an eternity, Draco’s hips bucking up ever so slightly against the weight of Harry in his lap. He needed more though, so he tipped Harry off his lap onto the sofa, moving to lie over Harry, their bodies connecting from head to foot. Harry’s hands gripped Draco’s arse tightly and their hips set up an agonising rhythm, the hard hot lines of their cocks rubbing against each other through their trousers. They were gasping into each other’s mouths, and Draco was pleasantly surprised to learn that Harry was quite vocal, mumbling Draco’s name in between kisses. 

Hands snuck under t-shirts, and soon Draco was stripping Harry of his clothes, revealing a toned chest and the most gorgeous prick Draco had ever seen, hard and heavy with desire. He couldn’t stop himself moving down to lick the head, teasing it with just his tongue, the noises Harry was making sending a thrill through Draco. It was only when Harry began to whisper _please, please_ that Draco took him in fully, pulling out all his best moves in an attempt to drive Harry mad. Soon Harry was moaning loudly, his hand tight in Draco’s hair as he moved up and down. It was the best feeling Draco had ever experienced. 

‘Shit, Draco-,’ Harry burst out, pushing Draco away. ‘M gonna come if you don’t stop.’

‘Good,’ Draco laughed.

‘Don’t want to come yet. Want to fuck you.’

Draco nearly came at just those words, the thought of Harry inside him too incredible to bear. He managed to hold himself back though, and instead hurried to remove his own trousers, resettling himself back on Harry’s thighs. He conjured a palmful of lube and spread some of it on Harry’s dick, before reaching back and quickly preparing himself, too desperate to feel Harry inside him to wait long. The feeling that rushed through him as he slowly sank onto Harry’s prick was indescribable, the stretch perfect and the look on Harry’s face making Draco’s heart pound. They began to move together, slowly at first and then quicker, Harry’s hips snapping up to meet Draco’s every movement. Draco couldn’t believe how good this was, how they seemed to instinctively know what the other wanted, how Harry knew that he liked a tight grip on his hips and a fast pace. 

Far too quickly Draco felt his orgasm building, even as he tried desperately to hold it off, not wanting this to be over so soon. It must have shown on his face though, as Harry wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock and began to stroke in time with his thrusts. Draco was done for. He couldn’t do anything but fall apart, coming over Harry’s hand and chest, his legs shaking as he groaned. Harry was coming too, and Draco leant down to kiss him, trying to pour all his unsaid feelings about Harry and this moment into the kiss. 

Afterwards, they lay there for endless minutes, their breathing gradually slowing, Draco coming back into his body bit by bit, becoming aware of where they were and the chill that was spreading over his bare skin. His head was tucked into Harry’s neck, and he was reluctant to look up, worried about what he might see. He didn’t want to find out that Harry regretted this. 

‘Draco,’ Harry said eventually, his voice quiet, his hands rubbing gently along Draco’s back. 

‘Mmh?’ Draco replied, nervous. 

‘This was-,’ Harry paused, and Draco began to panic. He knew what came after those words. ‘This was incredible.’

‘Really? I mean- yes. It was,’ Draco hurriedly added.

‘Yes, really. I’ve wanted that for- well, longer than I want to admit.’

Draco felt a burst of hope shooting through his veins. Maybe this hadn’t ruined anything, maybe it would turn out to be the best thing they’d ever done.

‘Me too,’ he hesitantly admitted.

‘Good.’ Draco could hear the smile in Harry’s voice, and he felt a similar one creep across his own face.

‘Yes, very good.’

‘Draco?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m cold, and sticky.’

‘Me too,’ Draco laughed.

‘My house has a shower, and it’s warm.’

‘Well there’s no need to brag.’

‘Don’t be a dick,’ Harry chuckled. ‘Would you like to come and see my nice warm shower?’

‘I’d love to.’

They dressed quietly, occasionally exchanging tentative excited smiles, a new peace settling over them as Harry helped Draco shut the cafe down, extinguishing the fire, turning out the lights. Just before they left the cafe, Harry took Draco’s hand, and they walked out the door to discover snow had begun to fall sometime while they had been otherwise occupied. It was the most romantic moment of Draco’s life, sex in front of the fire followed by walking in the snow hand in hand with the man he thought he could one day truly love. 

Of course Harry had to go and ruin it all.

‘I’m never going to be able to look at the sofa the same way again. Let’s do it on the counter next time.’


End file.
